Operation Drageses Revolution
by ravingmadaxeman-reborn
Summary: An innocent visit to start a new tournament has ended up with the Chojins in the middle of a domesday-like struggle between East and West. What will come of it?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

Prologue: A night on the Bosporus.

Silence reigned over the towering steel and glass pillars of Galata, and permeated between the alert minarets of the old city. Save for the slight twitching and rustlings of the wildlife of the city, nothing dared to breach this unspoken truce.

Below the watchful gaze of the Suleiman mosque, the IWF official yacht, _Herculean_ rested on her anchor cables in quiet contemplation. Her occupants slept deep within the warm grasp of her steel hull, minds freed to wander their subconscious realms at will. Only the distant hum of the generators interrupted the peace of the ship.

However, on the Eastern flank of the old city, another story was emerging. Slinking beneath the smooth surface of the Bosporus was a dark and sleek body. Her weight was pushing the sea above her up into a slight dome, but this was not discernable to the guardsmen at the Topkapi Palace overlooking the Straits.

A-004 was an Alfa class attack submarine, built in 1983 in the bleak shipyards bordering the Soviet Naval Base in Murmansk. From this Arctic wasteland, she had watched the West for years until, in 1991, with the collapse of the USSR, she was laid up in a dockyard in Murmansk, and left to rot.

And so she had done, until just 2 years ago, when a lightly built and immaculately dressed businessman had turned up in Murmansk, and gone into the Naval Commissars office. Exactly what was said eluded common knowledge, but when it had ended, the businessman had acquired A-004. One short week later, and the hulk of the aged vessel was loaded onto a floating dock and whisked away.

The key flaw of the titanium-hulled 44-knot Alfa class is the amount of noise she creates from her clanking nuclear reactor pumps. This had been changed completely, with the reactor, drive system, computers, weapons guidance and numerous other systems ripped out of her hull and replaced with the best technology that money (and good contacts) could obtain. The submarine, hidden under a mountain overlooking a semi-forgotten Norwegian fjord, had become the last word in submarine technology.

And now, she was resting on the bottom of the Bosporus, awaiting her orders. They came a few seconds after she had stopped, as a brief burst over her ULF (ultra-low frequency) antenna of digital data. The captain studied the sheet with immaculate precision, then leant forwards and whispered;

"Conn, release the divers."

"Aye sir."

A minute later, fifteen divers broke out from her escape hatch one after the other and hurried away towards the shoreline. As soon as the noise of their swishing flippers had vanished from his ears, the captain spoke again.

"Conn, take her up to 50 feet, engines at 5 knots and make a nice steady shift into the centre of the channel. We've got a boat to catch."

The submarine handled magnificently, deftly rising from the sandy bed of the Bosporus and then scuttling over towards the middle of the wide channel, her sonar's pricked to the distant rumble of two large Volkswagen diesel engines.

The divers, meanwhile, slipped gently out of the waves, discarded their gear, and darted for the Topkapi palace.

Just three minutes later, the first gunshot of the night rang out over the night air, signalling the end of the first life to be lost.

Now, as ears began to twitch to the warning signs, hundreds of people began to filter out of hotels and youth hostels across the city, and make their way towards telephone exchanges and railway stops and numerous other vital installations.

As they did so, a new vessel rounded the Bosporus and came into view of A-004. It was the _President_ _Ataturk_, official yacht of the President of Turkey. Hanging off her port quarter was a lone frigate, drifting idly along with her active sonar switched off; the nature of the Bosporus produced very confusing feedback. A-004 drifted a few feet more to one side, then stopped dead.

Steadily, A-004 eased open one of her torpedo tube doors, and carefully ejected a lone torpedo out into the water of the Bosporus. Then, the door slid shut deftly and the sub resumed her sideways scuttle towards the Asian shore.

The torpedo drifted slowly downwards, the timer on her motor ticking silently by without regard to the looming shape of the _President Ataturk_'s hull. It seemed, to the men on the A-004 at least, that the torpedo might not go off.

The sonar operators on the frigate heard nothing of the torpedo, until, suddenly, a burst of noise echoed into their ears as the torpedo's timer ran out and her motor spun into sudden life.

"TORPEDO!" came the imperilled cry from the weapons room – too late for the consort of the frigate.

The torpedo swung straight up, and honed in directly on the loudest noise she could hear, that of the two diesel engines in the hull of the _President Ataturk_. It entered directly in front of the port side engine, and detonated after the first one and a half feet were inside the hull, with horrifying consequences.

The diesel engine on the port side was physically thrown off its mountings by the sheer force of the blast, which ripped up the double hull like the lid of a sardine can, creating a tear half as long as the yacht in the bottom of the ship. Millions of gallons of seawater flooded in, filling up the bottom of the ship in seconds. As the tear was on the port side, the ship began to develop a heavy list towards that side.

On the surface, the explosion was muffled by its location; nevertheless, many people saw the gush of water emerging from the flank of the ship

The waves emanating from the blast echoed out across the harbour, making the _Herculean_ rock violently at her moorings. Jeager stirred from his sleep, and rolled over onto his back, rubbing one eye idly as he did so. What was…

A loud explosion shook his out from his stupor, and he sat bolt upright in bed.

Operation Drageses Revolution had begun.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

Chapter One: Running for the Marmara.

Within moments of waking up, Jaeger was looking out of the porthole that adorned one wall of his cabin.

The brightly lit skyline of Istanbul was still there, but its constant sodium and neon glare was now perforated with reddish flickers of gunfire, spasmodically erupting as the invading force encountered the disrupted pattern of police patrols that were trying to counter the invasion.

Then, without warning, the lights went out in one great wink, blinked back for a moment, and then fell back into blackness once more.

On the bridge of the _Herculean_, the captain was surveying the scene before him in the Bosporus, where the _President Ataturk_ was heaving further and further over to one side. Her attendant frigate stood a little way off, watching to try and catch her assailant of guard. The communications officer ran onto the bridge.

"Sir, radio message from the frigate!" the lieutenant handed over a sliver of paper to the captain.

"Seems that she wants us to clear out…" He looked around the bridge, soaking up the looks in the eyes of his men, then peered back out towards the Bosporus through his binoculars.

"If we don't leave now sir, then we risk being trapped here." The captain ran a hand through his beard and murmured distantly, trying to focus his mind on the task in hand. It went against very moral fibre in his being to do this… but.

"Stay here. Open the weapons locker and arm the crew. No-one leaves or boards this ship unless I say so!"

"Aye sir!" came the reply from his men. The captain only made eye contact with his XO, who gave a worried squint.

Shaking this off, the captain turned back to the scene on the Bosporus with intent. Why the hell hadn't the frigate caught the submarine (he assumed it was a submarine) yet? What the bloody hell was taking so long?

On board the _President Ataturk_, the half-dressed Turkish President was being rushed up the slanted corridor by his secret service agents.

"Come ON Mr President!" urged one of them as the ship made another high-pitched squeal from her belly. The President muttered darkly and pressed on, dragging himself up on the handle of a cabin door.

Then, without warning, the ship made a violent lurch right over onto her port side, turning the corridor into a vertical shaft. The President's hand slipped free of the door handle and he fell backwards. One of the agents reached out to grab him, but to no avail.

The President tumbled down the corridor, and cracked his head off a door hanging open across the corridor. Not long after that, he smashed clean through the window at the end of the corridor, and slipped into the black waters of the Bosporus, his broken neck allowing his head to loll horribly around as his lifeless corpse vanished into the depths.

Moments later, with water gushing in through innumerable vents and gaps, the _President Ataturk_ rolled over, exposing the horrific scar left by the torpedo, before she slipped serenely beneath the waves, leaving nothing more than ripples and a few handfuls of survivors. The frigate stopped her engines near to the scene and began to swing out her boats to pick up the survivors.

By now, the whole of Istanbul was crawling with insurgents. Police Stations were stormed, telephone exchanges and substations seized and shut down and the radio and TV stations taken over. On board the _Herculean_, events were moving just as fast.

A shell whistled absently through the radio wires of the yacht and burst a few yards away from her flank, causing everyone on the bridge to duck instinctively. The captain stood back up and peered back into his binoculars at the Asian shoreline.

"It's the Turkish army batteries – bloody idiots are going to kill us sooner than the rebels!" Another shell went off next to the bow, and the whole ship lurched violently upwards.

The lurch threw Kevin out of his bunk and onto the floor with a thump. His mask rolled off its perch on the table and clattered down next to him. Rubbing his head, Kevin sat up from the floor, and was knocked back down by another blast. He paused; waiting to see in another explosion would follow this one. None came, so, cautiously, he sat back up and looked around. Everything was jolted from its normal place, pictures hanging at odd angles from their nails, books lying open on the floor and the light shade still swinging from side to side.

Kevin stood up, still nursing the back of his head, and his ears immediately picked up the hammering of boots on the floor of the corridor outside, then the insistent pounding of a fist on the plasterboard door. Kevin stomped over, and swung it wide open to face a dishevelled and topless Jaeger.

"Kevin, they want us in ze…" Jaeger stammered to a halt, and left his jaw hanging loose. Kevin looked down, and released he was still start naked. He hastily swung the door back to cover himself up, and poked his head round the corner.

"Where do they want us?" he asked dryly, trying to regain some sense of authority and composure.

"Err… in ze…" Jaeger stuttered.

"Spit it out!"

"Main hall…" Jaeger said, before turning and racing off down the corridor. Kevin distinctly heard a spluttered laugh from him before he closed the door.

He leaned back into the door, and sighed heavily. He took a glance down at his stomach, and ran a couple of lazy fingers over the contours of the dragon tattoo that coiled up one side of his stomach. He pushed himself off the door and walked over to the wardrobe. Another shell burst somewhere over the city, and a machine gun crackled lazily. He switched on the bedside lamp, and swung open the wardrobe door to face the crumpled heap of clothes at the bottom. He rooted around for a moment, retrieved a dull khaki T-shirt and a tatty pair of jeans.

A few moments later, he emerged onto the corridor – and was nearly knocked over as Kid Muscle raced past.

"IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD! THE END OF THE WORLD!" he shrilled as he whistled past, with Meat hanging on his tail. Kid disappeared round the corner at the end of the corridor, leaving only the ringing echo of his voice. Terry poked his head out of the cabin next door, and glanced at Kevin darkly.

"Whadya want?" he asked. Kevin sniffed coldly and walked off, leaving the Texan to ponder the encounter.

It took a full half an hour to assemble everyone in the main hall. By then, Kid Muscle had been reduced to a quivering wreck, Jaeger was still giggling occasionally at his mental image of Kevin's less-than-manly tattoo and most of the other Chojins were half-asleep. The hail of shells had grown all the more intense as time went by, and it was now joined by the occasional rumble of jet engines, as Turkish F-16s now began to make tentative appearances in the skies over Istanbul.

The captain stood up on a table, and coughed loudly. Silent eyes were cast towards him.

"OK, here is the situation. We have received confirmed reports that there is a submarine in the straits, which has already sunk one vessel. Both sides of the harbour are now crawling with insurgents, or rebels, or whatever they are. I have chosen to arm the crew and see what comes out of it."

"VHAT?" Brocken Juniors protest echoed over the background rumble of war.

"Is there a problem?"

"Ja! Ve are just going to sit here und let ze enemy fire shells at us and not try to do anyzing?"

"What else do you want me to do?" The captain glared coldly at Brocken, who uncurled his fists in submission. "Nothing else can be done. We just have to sit, and pray, that nothing bad happens. In the meantime, we'll try and contact someone on shore and see about letting us escape."

He said nothing more, because there was nothing more to say. No-one wanted to say it, no-one wanted to utter the truth, but they all knew it. It was highly likely they would only leave here in body bags.

For the first time in his life, Checkmate was sweating with cold fear.

To be continued… 


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

SLASH WARNING ADDED! SLASH IMMINENT! If you don't like it, look away!

Chapter Two: The Return of the Palaeologai.

The meeting in the main hall of the _Herculean_ had broken up gradually, with people milling quietly away from the scene, scarcely daring to breathe in the fear-congested atmosphere. Brocken Jnr stomped off alone, fuming silently.

Why wouldn't that ass of a captain listen? He didn't want to die here, sitting helpless in what was now little more than a steel coffin! He wanted to die fighting, like a man, like he had been taught to. The frustration was making his blood boil.

Even now, he could almost feel the cold water on his skin…

Blind with rage, he spun and slammed his fist into the wall, hard. The steel dented obligingly beneath his fist. For a moment, he stood there, slowly grinding his bruised knuckles into the paintwork.

"Brocken?" Robin Mask's voice was laced with worry. The German retracted his fist from the wall and ran his fingers over the knuckles, trying to reason why. Robin took another step forwards.

"Brocken, its not your fault that we're staying here…"

"Nein, das is not vhy I am angry." He let go of his fist and looked up at Robin, raw fury boiling in the depths of his eyes. "I am angry because I vas taught to die like a man, not a snivelling coward! Ve should be out zere, fighting to protect people, not cowering in here!" His eyes stung with tears as he spoke… "It's not right!" He protested loudly, his voice ringing with cold injustice.

Robin baulked. What the hell was he meant to say now? Brocken looked fraught with anger, and it was only a matter of time before someone came along and saw him like this.

"Shall we go and… talk… about it?" Brocken looked relieved.

"Ja… ja. I need to clear mein head."

Tokyo, Japan.

Mars squeezed the pineapple even harder, shattering some of the scales into razor-sharp fragments that dug into his skin. Ignoring the shock of pain, he made one final squeeze before releasing the crumpled remains onto the worktop with a sigh.

He picked up the glass from the worktop and padded through into the living room, half-stifling a yawn as he did so. He dropped down into the armchair, and drained the glass in one go. As the last dregs of liquid vanished from the bottom of the glass, he realised his programme had been replaced with a news flash.

"If you're just joining us, we have received confirmed reports that a large number of insurgents have taken over the Turkish city of Istanbul. Other insurgents appear to have also overthrown both the Greek and Cypriot governments. We do not know if they are related, or what their demands are. As always, we'll keep you informed of further developments."

"MERDA!" swore Mars, leaping to his feet. The IWF was there, wasn't it? No… there was no way his revenge was going to be cut short by some bunch of trumped up punks with AK-47s. He had a right to get his pound of flesh from them, after what they had done to him – not only beat his face into the wrestling mat, but tried and prosecute him three times for a whole range of charges…

He stormed out of the living room. He had a flight to catch.

_To be continued…_

_Sorry for the shortness, but I need to update one last time before I go away for two weeks over Easter, during which time I shall be out of touch. See you on the other side!_


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

SLASH WARNING ADDED! SLASH IMMINENT! If you don't like it, look away!

Chapter Three: Megas Domestikos.

Flight BA 342 from Tokyo to Ankara touched down an hour late. Already, Turkish airspace was shut to most incoming flights; only those more than half way there were allowed to finish their routes. Unsurprisingly the flight was virtually empty. Mars had the top deck all to himself.

Almost as unsurprising was the insistence that two armed police sit in the upper deck with him. They had watched him intently for the whole duration of the flight, even standing outside the door when he went to the bathroom. He swore they had pushed a fibre optic tube under the door to make sure he wasn't trying anything funny.

The two police followed him off the plane, into the terminal building, through passport control, out into the taxi area and then gave way to a trio of burly Turkish soldiers, who clambered in after him. Fuming indignantly about this treatment, Mars leant forwards to the driver.

"Istanbul. Now." The driver looked at him with terror ingrained into his eyes.

"You mad? Is crawling wi…" Mars locked him in a deathly glare. Whimpering, the driver turned back to the wheel, started up the taxi and inched out of the taxi bay.

Topkapi Palace, Istanbul.

The shell splashes of the batteries overlooking the bay were beginning to ease off. The first two waves of troops had crossed the Bosporus and staggered up into the hills beyond, where they had engaged in close-quarters and often brutal hand-to-hand fighting with the gunners in the batteries.

Isaac Alexius Comnenus watched the scene with intent through his field glasses. He was immensely proud of the attack's progression over the past two days. Already, the Greek military was securely under control, and Greek troops were arriving over the Thracian border to help secure the Dardanelles. Ionia and Trabzon were secure; resistance in Cyprus was all but extinguished. His spearheads had encircled Izmir and were nearly 50 kilometres inland. The Turkish army and air force were in disarray, and the navy was running out of ports to send ships to.

Now, he could begin the drive towards Nicomedia and Nicaea, three days ahead of schedule.

Suddenly, the whirring of helicopter blades drew his gaze upwards. He took one look at the emblem on the underside of the helicopter and swore venomously.

A few moments later he bounded out of the main door of the palace and into the courtyard, to confront the whirring blades of a Black Hawk helicopter. Isaac stormed out across the gravel pavement as the side door was flung back.

A lean, almost straggling figure jumped down from the door and made its brisk way over to Isaac, who bowed briefly before looking up angrily.

"Sire, I must protest a your…"

"This is as much my battle as it is yours, Megas Domestikos. I have every right to be here."

"Sire, I rather you stay in Athens."

"No. I have no reason to hide. Now, show me the situation." Isaac sighed in frustration. He was too stubborn to be moved, and too intelligent to be outflanked.

"As you wish sire." He breathed, and then turned and led the way inside the palace.

The command room was deep inside the bunkers below the palace. Installed by the Turkish government in the 1950's as a shelter for valuables from the palace above, they had been continually upgraded ever since. Now, they were brimming with computer equipment, technicians and analysts, all frantically gathering, sorting, analysing and moving data and information with tremendous ferocity.

The central bunker boasted a large holo-table, on which was projected a 3D map of the whole region, with symbols shuffling around representing various military and civilian movements. Isaac led his commander to the edge of the table. The young man browsed briefly, then turned to Isaac.

"It appears that now might be a good time to announce our method to this madness."

"Well, maybe if we wait until Smyrna…"

"No." The commander tapped a large symbol on the holo-table near Crete. "This is the USS _Carl Vinson_ and her battle group. If she does not know better, she will attack us. I cannot risk a war with the USA. She is simply to powerful at this time." Isaac nodded curtly.

"As you wish, sire."

SS _Herculean_, Golden Horn, Istanbul.

"Hey guys, something's happening!" Kid Muscle's bellowing tones echoed deep into the bowels of the ship.

Brocken Jnr stirred from his sleep gently, and twisted over slightly. Robin gave a slight sigh and shifted slightly, gently tightening his arm around Brocken's stomach. Smiling, the German leant back and kissed Robin's hair gently.

"Guten Morgen, meine Liebe," he breathed. Robin grinned softly.

The Chojins slowly filed back into the main hall, to find the TV newsreaders busily cutting off interviewees and turning back to face the cameras. Robin and Brocken shuffled into the back, unnoticed by anyone.

"And as we were just saying, the rebels are about to make a live statement from Istanbul. It is Audio only, and they have not let on what they will say…" The newsreader cast a glance behind the cameras, where one of the production crew gave a thumbs-up. "And it looks like they're making the statement now."

With that, the screen was filled by an image of the Hagia Sophia, though the news bar and clock remained on the bottom of the screen. A methodical and dry voice no echoed out from the TV.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the world.

As you are well aware, over the past few days, insurgent forces have overthrown the Greek and Cypriot governments, and have engaged Turkish forces in a ground war in Ionia and Thrace.

I am here to inform you of their mission.

600 years ago, the armies of the Ottoman Empire destroyed the Byzantine Empire. Since then, we have lain dormant, slowly gathering up wealth and power, accumulating back our pride and resources. Now, the Byzantine Empire is striking back.

We wish to create a constitutional monarchy, encompassing Greece, Cyprus and Turkey. We wish to encompass all faiths within these areas, particularly Christianity and Islam. We wish to create a nation that can be to the world an example of a multi-cultural society success. We invite representatives from the UN, Turkey, Greece, Cyprus, Albania, Kurdistan, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Armenia and Georgia to a summit here in Constantinople to discuss the future nature of this state.

The coronation of the first enthroned Roman Emperor since 1453 will take place on a date transmitted to the security forces at this time. All nations are invited to send representatives to the joint Christian-Muslim Ceremony.

Thank you for your time."

To be continued… 

_Another short one, but the story is developing here. How will the Chojin's react to this announcement? And how will they react to Brocken and Robin? And what about Mars? Will he get his pound of flesh?_


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

SLASH WARNING ADDED! SLASH IMMINENT! If you don't like it, look away!

Chapter Four: Byzantine Practices.

The newsreader came back onto the screen and turned straight around to begin questioning one of the resident Middle East experts that the network had hastily roped in. This left the Chojins to begin chattering amongst one another, arguing vehemently about what they were going to do now.

"Fight them!"

"Niet… we should try and see if they let us go!"

"Don't be daft!"

After a few minutes, Jaeger decided to try and escape from the brewing riot. He slunk past a bitterly arguing Buffaloman and Dik Dik… and came face to face with Brocken and Robin.

In each other's arms.

Kissing.

"MEIN GOTT!" He yelped, almost painfully. "Father, vat are you DOING?"

Brocken broke the kiss hurriedly and turned to face his son, pink patches glowing under his eyes.

"I am… err…"

"You are GAY?" Jaeger spat. By now, the argument had died down, and all eyes were now directed on the mini soap opera that was growing in the corner. Brocken looked into Jaeger's eyes, and started to try and stammer out am explanation.

"Jaeger, sometimes…"

"NEIN!" Eyes brimming with tears, Jaeger clenched his fists in anger. "Nein father. You… told me that this was wrong, that it was un-German to be gay. You lied. YOU LIED!"

"Mein son…" Brocken stood up, and took a step towards Jaeger, hand outstretched. "Please, understand…" Jaeger, his mind immobilised in shock, lashed out. He knocked Brocken off his feet with one fell blow and pelted away down the corridor.

Brocken Jnr staggered onto his feet, and set off after him.

"Brocken!" Robin yelled. "BROCKEN!" Brocken halted, and turned to face him. Robin shook his head warningly. "He'll come back, when he's calmed down."

Doors, lights, windows. All passed Jaeger in a misty blur as he ran hard through the bowels of the ship. He pounded around corners, and finally burst out onto the deck, emerging into the glorious glow of the new dawn. Here, he paused. Istanbul was brightly lit with the rays of the morning sun, its minarets and domes shimmering in the golden light.

Jaeger walked up to the rail at the edge of the deck, shedding his helmet as he walked. He cast a guarded glance around him, and then leapt overboard.

**The** swim from the _Herculean _back to the shoreline was not a challenge for Jaeger. The icy water of the Bosporus blasted shock waves into his mind as he swam hard for the quayside. Once there, he pulled himself up a rusting ladder built into the dock wall, and the collapsed onto the quay, eyes stinging from the salt.

He looked back at the _Herculean_, riding silently at anchor in the dawn.

"No father. You lied to me," was all he said. Then he turned and raced away into the streets of Istanbul.

He ran for what seemed like forever, turning random corners and dashing down alleyways to avoid the prying eyes he felt on his back. He felt sick, ashamed and angry. Above all this rode an overriding sense of betrayal on Brocken's behalf. His father had lied to him, lied to him straight faced and told him that being gay was the greatest shame he could bring on the family. It was his job to grow up and have children to continue the line, not squander his energy on futile pursuits of other men.

He turned another corner, and nearly ran into a tall, straggling teenager. He weaved to one side to avoid him, slipped on wet paving stone, and landed with a thud on the pavement.

"Damn!" said the stranger, "Grief, I'm so sorry sir…" he bent down to help Jaeger up. Jaeger shrugged him off, and gave him a hurt look… then paused.

"Pardon?"

"I said I'm sorry for tripping you up." Jaeger stared. That voice! It was oddly similar to that one in the newscast…

"Are you…?" murmured Jaeger, sitting upright on the pavement… "Are you the voice from the newscast?" The man blushed vaguely.

"I am. Here, let me take you back to Topkapi, and we'll get you cleaned up. It's Jaeger right?"

"Ja… Und you are?"

"Andronicus Basil Michael Gabriel Constantine Palaeologai. You can all me Andy… everyone always does."

"Andy…" murmured Jaeger vaguely. Andy helped him up onto his feet with both hands, and looked him down.

"You're soaking wet! And looks like you grazed that knee at some point. Come on, we'll get you something warm to wear." Jaeger stared numbly as Andy set off down the pavement. After a while, he turned to see Jaeger still stood there.

"What? Oh, yes… these things. Yea, they're real." With that , he turned and set off down the pavement, his wings trailing just above the pavement. Jaeger shook off his stupor, and ran after him.

Andronicus VII had made his first new friend ever.

_To be continued…_

_Well now. Jaeger has stormed out on Brocken and run into someone quite unexpected, Mars is still somewhere in Turkey and Brocken will have quite a storm to live down._


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to.

SLASH WARNING ADDED! SLASH IMMINENT! If you don't like it, look away!

Chapter Five: The bowels of Topkapi.

**Jaeger's **first sight of the Topkapi palace came as they emerged from the narrow backstreets of the city and out onto the edge of a vast rolling park, edged by the crumbling remains of the Roman Walls.

They walked around a block of museums, all silent and locked, their staff holed up in their homes elsewhere in the city. Jaeger gazed around. Before, when they had been here to co-ordinate the start of build-up for the next Chojin Crown, they had been whisked around from location to location in a blacked-out coach, and had never gotten chance to admire the scenery of the city. Now, he could admire the numerous landmarks, particularly the looming grace of the Hagia Sophia.

They finally reached the front gate of the Palace, to be faced by six heavily armed guards, who parted to let Andy pass, but moved to stop Jaeger.

"Sergeant, let him pass," warned Andy. Reluctantly, the guards parted and Jaeger passed through, out into one of the four courtyards of the palace, a vast expanse of bursting flowerbeds and babbling marble fountains. Andy sidestepped a shell-hole in the middle of the pavement, and made for one of the elegant verandas around the edge of the courtyard. He strode over the slick marble edge, and up to a side door of the palace – a richly carved teak creation, embossed with extravagant hinges. The gold-plated handle twisted silently beneath Andy's hand, and the door swung effortlessly open.

Jaeger stepped inside, and was awe struck. The inside of the palace was covered in richly coloured geometric tiles, all glowing in the flood of morning sunlight seeping into the building from numerous elegant windows. A tall, tuxedo-clad servant skimmed over the floor, and drew himself up next to Andy.

"May I offer you a drink sire?" he enquired in clean-cut and immaculate Greek.

"I'm fine, Edwin." The servant cast a shady glare over at Jaeger.

"And what do you want?" he asked dryly.

"Edwin, that's Jaeger. Brocken Jnr's son, remember?" Edwin nodded deeply.

"I apologise Jaeger. I assume he is here for…" Andy gave him a guarded look. Edwin said nothing more, he just steered Jaeger towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Jaeger was shuffled past more doors, down elaborate corridors and through richly embossed arches by Edwin, who never uttered a word. It was all to much of a rush for Jaeger, who gave up trying to communicate with Edwin after a minute and just let himself be guided to his destination.

The destination was an immaculate marble bathroom, embellished with golden taps and fittings, with elegant patterns carved into the glass wall around the shower cubicle. Edwin laid out a pair of towels, some soap and shampoo, a flannel and a nailbrush before vanishing back out of the door. Jaeger, still dripping water onto the marbled floor, looked around for a moment, soaking in his environment with widened eyes. The glimmer of the marble was heightened by the glitter of the golden fittings and the glow of the sunlight pouring in through the frosted glass mounted in its dark teak frames.

Jaeger slowly peeled his sopping wet clothes off, and left them in a pile near the door. Gathering up the soap and flannel, he swung open the glass door for the shower cubicle, and stepped in.

**The **taxi had been driving all night, winding its brisk way along the deserted highway E180, drawing nearer and nearer by the hour to its destination. Just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, Mars had gotten the driver to pull over, on the pretence of answering a call of nature.

Five minutes later, Mars returned to the taxi. He opened the driver door, clambered into the seat and fired up the engine.

A moment later he shot off down the highway, leaving behind four crumpled corpses of the soldiers and the driver – the latter still with tears soaking into his face. Mars had better things to do than listen to him whinge and cringe about his family.

Mars drove as recklessly as he dared, keeping the taxi running at 105 mph all the rest of the way to Istanbul. As the afternoon drew in, he found the road completely deserted. Then, just five miles west of Iznit, he came up to a Turkish army checkpoint, manned by two large tanks, with their gun barrels trained at the road.

The dead guards did not flinch as the taxi slid through the gap between the two tanks, and Mars whistled softly to a tune in his head as he rumbled ever closer to the city.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate Muscle, and I don't claim to. Nor do I own the Disney name or brand...

SLASH WARNING ADDED! SLASH IMMINENT! If you don't like it, look away!

**Chapter Six: **Dance of Disney Death.

**Some** 15 nautical miles south of the island of Crete, the USS _Carl Vinson_ cruised steadily at a conservative 16 knots, surrounded by attentive escorts.

It had been nearly a week now since the revolution had begun, and the carrier had been on heightened alert for the whole time. Its air crews sat around in their flight suits, slumped into the chairs dotted around the crew decks as their aircraft sat humming on the hanger deck. Above those aircraft, Vice-Admiral Joseph Pillter was having another bad day.

"Where are the marines?" He bellowed, thumping the map table with a tensed fist. The neat naval officers all winced as the Admiral glared into their eyes with cold wrath.

"WELL?" The captain of the USS _Ticonderoga_ ventured an answer.

"It would seem that they have been put onto a slower ship than we thought…"

"Yes. A Disney cruise ship! A FLOATING THEME PARK! The best soldiers in world, and we can't give them a proper assault ship because they're all in the damn Gulf!" He cursed sharply, and leaned back.

"Nevertheless, we have a job to do." The Admiral became very cold and retracted as he spoke, noted the officers, probably berating himself for his loss of temper.

"The USS _Disney Wonder_ will be with us in two days, gentlemen." The Admiral gestured at the map of Crete. "We will land the Marines at Sunda Bay in two waves. The first wave will make straight for Candia, the second for Heraklion. Once we have secured the airfields, the USAF will be flying in F-15's and F-16's to cover the next step – a landing on Naxos. Questions?"

"Shouldn't we be sending an escort out for the _Disney Wonder_?" queried the commander of the USS _Winston S. Churchill_.

"No. The enemy has no real naval strength outside the Aegean. In any case, they would never guess she was a troopship."

**A-004, somewhere in the Ionian Sea**.

"Ship on sonar, sir."

"Type, course, speed?"

"Troopship, due SSE, 16 knots."

"Make ready tubes 1 and 2."

"Aye sir, tubes 1 and 2 will be made ready."

"All ahead steady."

"Steady she is sir."

"Target check."

"Course unchanged, speed unchanged. Sounds to be flushing out toilet tanks sir."

"Excellent. Range and bearing check."

"Range, 300 metres. Bearing, 006."

"Compute those into the torpedoes."

"Computed and entered sir."

"Open the bow doors, and steady to four knots. Man battle stations."

"Aye sir, manning battle stations and opening bow doors. Speed to four knots."

"Range check."

"Range is 285 metres."

"Fire tubes one and two."

"Firing tubes one and two."

"Set a new heading of 090, mark 150 feet. All ahead full!"

The _Disney Wonder_ never saw the two foaming lines zero in on her towering port flank. The only warning she got was when the warheads detonated against her side, tearing open the steel plating and exposing the bowels of the ship to the merciless onrush of the Mediterranean Sea.

Despite her high-tech engineering and safety measures galore, the devastation was simply too much for the huge ship to bear. Hissing steam from ruptured pipes in her engine room, she turned turtle and plunged to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea in just under three minutes.

**Topkapi Palace**.

Jaeger was dozing silently in a wicker chair perched on a narrow balcony overlooking the Bosporus. The glow of the evening sun lay behind the palace, leaving the south side of the palace in the cool shade. Jaeger had retired here in order to hide from the oppressive heat that the sun still projected across much of Istanbul.

A small noise roused him from his nap, and he looked up to see Andronicus, clutching a piece of paper within his trembling fingers.

"Is der a problem, Andy?"

"No, no, not at all Jaeger." Andy dropped down onto the marble floor of the balcony, still holding the sheet. Jaeger stared for a moment at the lone figure, then turned his gaze back out over the sea.

Somewhere over his shoulder, the _Herculean_ was still moored out in the Golden Horn, riding silently at anchor. Jaeger refused to even look at the ship, her funnel adorned with the huge IWF logo in all its resplendent glory. Instead, he would glance away whenever he was on the north side of the palace, and avoid all questions and discussions over the ship.

Andy was taking quite the other view – he spent hours pouring over the technical drawings of the _Herculean_ with his advisors, trying to figure out how to deal with the errant vessel moored in his harbour. It might also help to alleviate Jaegers' staunch withdrawal, which was now worrying more than just Andy.

Edwin was in the room behind the balcony, busily pouring tea into crisp white porcelain cups from a silver pot. He had watched Jaeger all the more intently over the past few days as the German had seemingly stalled all contact with palace officials, including him, and no even showed signs of withdrawing from Andy.

He had no time to worry further, however. An unshaven and slightly smelly Megas Domestikos strode into the room, swerved silently around Edwin and over to Andy, who was still sat on the marble.

"Sire, I have here a transmission from our 2nd Armoured Division. It has reached Bursa, and the Turks are falling back from the city. Should I order them to press their attack and encircle the defeated enemies?" Andy nodded slightly. The Megas Domestikos turned to leave.

"Isaac?" Andy called out. "I think its time we conducted a proper sweep of the Nicomedia peninsular – just in case. And put the _Pantocrator_ on alert to make contact with the _Carl Vinson._"

"Very good sire."

**There** it was. Rising before him in all its exquisite glory. The Queen of Cities, Constantinople. Mars smiled malevolently. The taxi had finally expired from the heat days ago, and since then he had been skulking around on the Asiatic shore, looking for a way to sneak over the Bosporus without being shot, or drowning. He knew full well that the Bosporus currents could carry him under with ease, not matter how strong he was.

He was currently residing in a small thicket that hung over the edge of the water, just a few yards away from a vast container ship, whose impressive sides were blemished with blast marks from the gun battle that had raged here a week ago.

He shuffled slightly, leaning his weight onto one foot. The first pangs of hunger gripped him, and he realised he hadn't eaten for hours. Never mind.

A sudden shock alerted him to something wrong. A first he thought it was a thorn – he had already pricked himself many times in this thicket.

A moment later, darkness engulfed his mind.

_To be continued…_


End file.
